


Rebuild

by Musicandjason



Series: The house of Holmes and Lestrade [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Repairing Relationships, all the feels, maybe some foul language, this is all fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicandjason/pseuds/Musicandjason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, I won’t keep you then. It…It was just nice to see you. It’s been too long.” Greg himself was aware of how shit he must have looked as well, with raccoon eyes and a five o’clock shadow that was three days old. He had recently managed to get himself to a barber for a haircut, but he was currently unable to pinpoint exactly how long ago that had been. Things got away from him sometimes. He was also aware of the watch that he was wearing on his wrist, which currently felt like it was made of iron, wearing his brain down. It had been a gift from the man who was standing in front of him, too important to stop and have a chat with the man who used to share a flat with him. This time piece also had an inscription. ‘Always. MH’</p><p>“I agree. Perhaps sometime soon we can catch up over dinner?” Mycroft smiled that tight smile that occasionally graced his beautiful face, and then turn and left. Greg was left standing there, in his perfectly acceptable, non-tailored navy blue suit, with his tie feeling too tight against his neck, and his breath catching in his lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own these characters or anything about this story that exists because of the Sherlock connections. I just play in their sandbox.

Greg Lestrade was trudging through the streets of London, trying to shake off the 16 hours of Overtime he had already put in that week. It was only Wednesday. It was not raining for once, and that was probably the only thing that had gone right for him that day. He had burnt his toast black because he was trying to fund a clean pair of socks, dropped his tea getting out of the car because he was on his mobile speaking to Donovan, and there had been a third murder/suicide early that morning.

He looked up quickly, taking his eyes off his brown Jack Irwin’s. He loved those shoes, despite the fact that they were more pretentious than anything else he owned, and he had bought them at a trunk show. It had nothing to do with the well-dressed man he had been with when he bought them. Greg very out of place.

“Mycroft!” Greg yelled out, trying to get the attention of the smartly dressed man. Mycroft looked up to where his name had been shouted from, and once we saw who was calling out to him, he looked down quickly. The Detective Inspector took off jogging quickly, with his knee length black jacket flapping behind him in an ungraceful manner. He caught up with the older man much quicker than he had anticipated, and he clasped his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder to stop him.

“Oi! Mycroft. It’s…good to see you.” Greg meant that in the most literal of senses, as he always loved staring at Mycroft.  He did not disappoint that day either. He was wearing a rich grey suit that looked the color of the finest polished stones, complete with his signature waistcoat. His shirt was a bit different than Greg was used to seeing, white with a fine silver pinstripe running through it. His pocket watch and tie clip were silver to match the pinstripe as well. Greg’s breath froze in his in his throat when he realized that it was the pocket watch that Greg had given him for his birthday the year before. He knew, simply because it was the only silver one that he owned. The words inscribed on the inside of that watch burned bright in his mind. ‘Here’s to the time we pass together. Love, Greg.’

“Gregory, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you calling my name.” Mycroft spoke in that calculated empty way that he reserved for complete strangers and it made Greg feel invisible. He looked closer at Mycroft’s face and the man looked like he was trying to fight all the world’s wars on no sleep and pounds of that overpriced, delicious coffee of his. His faintly auburn hair appeared to be thinning even further, and it strangely appeared as if he had given up on shaving his face completely. A thick beard covered his cheeks in a way that Greg couldn’t comprehend. The dark circles that rimmed his grey eyes were deep and painful looking.

“Liar.” Greg smiled quickly after the words has tumbled from his lips to prove that he, was in fact, not mad at his former boyfriend. He had always hated that word. Boyfriend didn’t fit what they had been; maybe lover was more fitting for two twenty something’s that had found solace in each other’s arms.

“Yes, well, I’m on my way to an important meeting.” Mycroft shifted his weight from toe to toe as if to prove that he had somewhere far more important to be than standing on the street with someone whom he used to know. The tip of his black umbrella tapped impatiently on the concrete between them. Greg felt an involuntary twitch in his eye.

“Well, I won’t keep you then. It…It was just nice to see you. It’s been too long.” Greg himself was aware of how shit he must have looked as well, with raccoon eyes and a five o’clock shadow that was three days old. He had recently managed to get himself to a barber for a haircut, but he was currently unable to pinpoint exactly how long ago that had been. Things got away from him sometimes. He was also aware of the watch that he was wearing on his wrist, which currently felt like it was made of iron, wearing his brain down. It had been a gift from the man who was standing in front of him, too important to stop and have a chat with the man who used to share a flat with him. This time piece also had an inscription. ‘Always. MH’

“I agree. Perhaps sometime soon we can catch up over dinner?” Mycroft smiled that tight smile that occasionally graced his beautiful face, and then turn and left. Greg was left standing there, in his perfectly acceptable, non-tailored navy blue suit, with his tie feeling too tight against his neck, and his breath catching in his lungs.

Did Mycroft really want to catch up with him? Greg, and anyone else who had ever met Mycroft Holmes knew that he didn’t say things that he didn’t mean. But what did it really mean? It had been six months since Mycroft had left Greg standing outside a pub where they had been having dinner, claiming that their worlds were just too different for forever to be an option. Greg had stood there for multiple moments, never having been so happy for the rain, because it made perfect camouflage for his tears. By the time he had made it to his brother’s house late that night, he was drunker than he had been in a lot of years. The idea that he wasn’t able to go back to his own flat, because Mycroft was there, made him chase the feeling of numbness that getting obliterated provided. He stayed drunk for two days after; long enough for him to rent out a small flat, and send some friends to pick up his things from his former home. He and Mycroft had been together just over a year, and that had been just long enough for delusions of forever to grow strong in Greg’s mind and heart.

And now, Greg had been left standing in the street again, in Mycroft’s wake, feeling like a swimmer drowning in water that was far too dangerous for his skills. This was generally the same way he had always felt when he was put face to face with that impressive man. Greg shook his head and began walking back in the direction of the Yard. He had real work to do, and it didn’t include dissecting his former relationship.

XXX

_Were you serious about dinner? –GL_

_Have I ever said something to you that I wasn’t serious about? –MH_

Greg could hear the haughty sarcasm in Mycroft’s voice, even though it was a text message. Sometimes it seemed almost as if Mycroft spoke in Italics. Just a little bit above everyone else’s regular cadence, and certainly a lot more refined than Greg.

_You could have just said ‘Yes.’ –GL_

_Yes, then. –MH_

_Why? –GL_

_Can I not simply want to catch up with someone who was, in the past, very important to me? –MH_

_No, not when six months ago you broke me, Myc. GL_

Greg floundered with whether he wanted to use the nickname that he, and to his understanding, only he used for Mycroft. It still conjured memories of them sitting at their dining room table, eating breakfast and sipping insanely expensive tea. It was intimate. Greg took a deep breath and decided that it needed to be intimate. He hit send.

_Must you always be so dramatic? I miss you, Gregory. To what extent I’m not sure yet. Might I suggest that you accompany me out to a nice dinner tomorrow evening? –MH_

_Are you asking me out on a date? And how nice is this restaurant going to be? Do I need to go out and buy a new suit? –GL_

_I suppose I am, yes. But one with no guarantees. I can only say that I miss you and I need to reconcile those feelings somehow. And I can have a suit delivered to your flat, or the Yard, if you’d prefer. –MH_

_You know I hate when you dress me, Myc. –GL_

_I know how much you pretend to hate it. –MH_

Greg took a deep breath and huffed it out. It was true. Originally, when they had first started dating, and Mycroft would send a suit, or a tuxedo, it would make Greg feel like he was a child; one that couldn’t be trusted to dress himself. It had then progressed to him feeling ashamed because of the obvious difference in their paycheques. But eventually, once he has realized that Mycroft just wanted to treat Greg well, and things like sending Greg a 1000£ suit so that he would look nice was Mycroft’s way of taking care of him, he was okay with it. And he had to admit, that dressing in something that expensive made him feel really good.

_Fine. To my flat. Pick me up at seven? Have the suit at my place for five so I can get ready. –GL_

_That sounds acceptable. Goodnight, Detective Inspector. –MH_

_Night, Myc. –GL_

Greg put his phone down on his bedside table and shook his head. When was the last time he sat in bed, with his feather duvet wrapped around his waist, chest bare save for the grey hair that peppered it. He laughed out loud, the sound filling the empty room fully, and he reached over to turn off the light. He wasn’t sure why he and Mycroft had been unable to discuss this face to face, but right now, he would take any contact he could get. After six months of Mycroft ignoring his text messages, not answering his calls and never being at Baker St. when he was there, he would take any contact he could get.

X

Mycroft put his phone down on the edge of the large soaker tub that was situated in the en suite of his master bathroom. The water was so hot that it was almost scalding his pale skin. Hot baths had always helped Mycroft think. But the man that could singlehandedly make Britain fall with exactly two phone calls couldn’t help but think that this time, his own sort of mind palace had failed him. Seeing Gregory had been hard. But seeing that he was faring no better than himself had made him wonder. And seeing that he was not the only one who was still wearing the time piece that the other had gifted brought back all the regret he had felt standing outside that pub.

The choice to end things with Gregory had become crystal clear in the middle of the meal that they were having when Mycroft received a text message. That message stated that, not only has someone been able to find his flat, which was listed under another name, and was not published anywhere, but they had also managed to breach the security system and get inside. A security system that was considered unbeatable, and had never given him any concerns. The culprit had been apprehended, but for the first time in a lot of years, he had felt quite unsafe. And he knew that he could never chance letting Gregory get harmed on his account. It was hard enough knowing that he was a police officer and Mycroft’s influence wasn’t able to protect him, but the thought that their relationship could make things worse, was not an option.

So he told Gregory it wasn’t working. And pretended not to hear the hitch in his lover’s voice when he begged him to reconsider. And most of all, Mycroft didn’t stop walking when he heard Gregory cry. To hear the only man that he had ever loved weep because of his doing had nearly ended Mycroft, and it was only recently that he had started eating regularly again. He still rarely slept, and never shaved. He had lost a big part of himself that night when he lost Gregory, and now he had decided to torture himself by bringing him back? What was he doing to himself?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg glanced at his watch, and saw that it was 650pm. His car would arrive in exactly ten minutes. He went into the kitchen, and grabbed his reserve bottle of scotch, a tumbler, and poured a quick drink. He would need all the inner calm he could get to make it through this night. He needed to be ready for anything.
> 
> The sleek black Jaguar pulled up outside of the small Italian restaurant that Gregory and he had loved so much in their previous time together, and Mycroft very nearly lost his nerve. After all this time and work, he had what he wanted. An evening with Gregory Lestrade. If he was truthful to himself though, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do with that evening, and had no idea what Gregory wanted from the dinner. All he knew was that the love of his life, whom he wronged severely, had agreed to meet with him, had agreed to wear the suit that he had sent over, and had not cancelled when he found out that he had sent cufflinks that cost more than most things Gregory owned. Mycroft opened the door, and got out of the car, closing it behind him. He had six minutes until Gregory arrived at the restaurant, and he needed some time to settle himself and choose the wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was only going to be two chapters, but apparently, i've decided it's going to be three.

When Greg opened the door to his flat at 530pm the next evening, after an insane day of running around after Sherlock Holmes and a money launderer who for some reason had decided to murder his whole crew early that morning. Sherlock had been following leads and seeing that sparkle in his eye made Greg smile. Sherlock was only truly happy when he was chasing a lead, in a random London cab, babbling nonsense that no one, save for his older brother could understand. Greg had gotten used to feel downright unevolved around the other man, but he was mostly okay with it. The criminals still got caught, and he still looked good to his superiors. Around 330pm they had finally managed to catch him, as he made a mistake that Sherlock had deemed ‘disgustingly stupid.’ Greg had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on the necessary paperwork to keep the criminal in jail, but eventually he gave up and handed everything off to Donovan to complete.

He had chosen to walk home, instead of taking the crowded tube, mostly to kill time. He might look a mess, but even he didn’t need three hours to get ready. The air was cool and damp, which served to keep him from sweating as his feet pounded the pavement in a steady pace. It had rained several hours ago, but not recently enough that Greg needed to be worried about the bottom of his trouser legs getting ruined. Another thing that he never would have thought of until he had lived with Mycroft. The calm walk gave Greg the time to think about what he wanted from that night’s dinner. Mostly, he decided, he just wanted to spend time with Mycroft, and make sure he was okay.

Greg walked into his flat, took off his jacket and hung it in the front closet next to two other fine jackets that rarely got their use. They were too nice for him to wear every day to work, and he rarely got out the expensive restaurants and clubs like he had in the past. He put his briefcase on the side table, and threw his keys next to them, before he looked up and saw something that he hadn’t seen in a long time. There was a white garment bag, with the discreet emblem of the tailor that Mycroft exclusively went to. Greg took a deep breath (he seemed to be doing that a lot in the last 24 hours, like his brain couldn’t get enough oxygen to comprehend what he was doing) and picked up the bag and took it on the short journey to his bedroom. He put it down on his duvet, and opened the bag. He took it out of the bag carefully and the smile that crossed his face was impermeable. The suit was perfect. It was black with the faintest of patterns on the trousers and jacket. There was no waistcoat, because Mycroft knew he thought they were pointless. There was a crisp white dress shirt, with French cuffs and the richest looking deep blue tie.

There was also a box, with a card at the bottom of the bag. This had not been an uncommon occurrence in the past, as Mycroft apparently always thought that he needed to be woo’ed like a high school girl. Greg opened the card first. In Mycroft’s own fine, tight cursive, it said _‘I hope this is to your satisfaction. I anxiously await seeing you. Mycroft’_

Greg opened the box. It was a pair of cufflinks; white gold with a cluster of diamonds. Three were the standard beautiful clear diamonds, and the fourth was a striking black one. Now the French cuffs on his shirt made sense. Greg quickly stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor, one that would have made Mycroft cringe and shake his head. Snickering, he went and took a long, slow shower, using the last of his shower gel that had been put in one of the boxes that had been packed by Mycroft, or his people when Greg was asked to find somewhere else to live. The smell filled his nose, and took him back to the good times. He had used this sparingly, partly because it was worth more per bottle than his flat, and mostly because when that bottle was empty, there was one less thing to remind him of Mycroft in his life. Once finished his shower, he looked at himself in the mirror, fixed his hair a bit, and decided against shaving because he thought that he looked good with a little bit of stubble.

He got dressed slowly, enjoying the ceremony of it. Buttoning the trousers and using his hand to smooth down the crease that was pressed into the front of each trouser leg. Tucking in the crisp white shirt, fingers dancing along the pearl white buttons and flipping up the collar so that he could tie his tie. He carefully tied a full Windsor knot, and made sure that it was tight to his collar. He went to his dresser and grabbed a nice tie clip and secured his tie to his shirt. He grabbed the jacket and slipped it on; it fit perfectly, of course. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Mycroft had someone in his office examine the most recent CCTV footage to discern how much weight he had gained or lost since their breakup. Greg took a quick look in the mirror and actually smiled. Dressing like this suited him, as much as it pained him to admit sometimes.

Greg glanced at his watch, and saw that it was 650pm. His car would arrive in exactly ten minutes. He went into the kitchen, and grabbed his reserve bottle of scotch, a tumbler, and poured a quick drink. He would need all the inner calm he could get to make it through this night. He needed to be ready for anything.

X

Mycroft had a light day at the office for once, with only two in person meetings, and three video conferences. He managed to remain cordial and attentive in appearance during all of the meetings, while inside all he wanted to do was drop the mask that he had always kept up, and freak out. He wished in the most irrational way that he could fast forward just fast forward the time so that he could see Gregory. Even when they had been together, and it had been a few days, or even a week, if he had to go out of country, the feeling of anticipation had never been quite this big.

He left his office at 6pm, and told his driver to go directly to the restaurant, as he had put on the nicest suit that he had, which would match the one that he sent over to Gregory. The one he sent to Gregory had sat in the closet in Mycroft’s spare room for a number of months, as he had had it prepared for a special dinner that was to happen shortly after Mycroft had…broken off their relationship. He was almost overjoyed that he would finally get to see it on his former lover. He had gone out himself, instead of sending Anthea to pick up some lovely white gold and diamond cufflinks that would go perfectly with the ensemble, and Gregory’s silver hair. He hoped that Gregory would agree to wear them, and that he wouldn’t be upset about the fact that he had given a gift after all these months. After he had ended things. After he had, broken Gregory, as the other man had so distinctly put it.

Mycroft’s own three piece suit was strikingly similar to the one he has been wearing the day before, save for the fact that it was a lighter shade of grey. Instead of a polished stone, it appeared more like an early overcast day. He tie was a solid black this time as well, because black ties were always an intelligent choice. He had thought about switching his pocketwatch to one that wouldn’t betray his feelings and sentiment quite as much, but in the end had decided that maybe sentiment was what they both needed. He had also chosen to wear cologne, which he did not normally, simply because it had been a gift from Gregory’s daughter. He did not enjoy how much his former partner was still causing him to change his ways.

The Elder Holmes had sent a second car to collect the Detective Inspector, deciding that it was better to meet at the restaurant then in a car, by themselves. It also gave him time to formulate what he thought he wanted to say to his former boyfriend. Mycroft had realized that something was missing from his life a few weeks ago, when he was sitting in his office, mulling over a peace treaty for a minor Arabic nation. Anthea had rushed in, saying that she had a personal family emergency, and she knew how unprofessional it was, but she needed to go. Mycroft had of course allowed her to go, not that he had much choice in the matter at all, and then it had hit him with a tonne of bricks. He had no one. No one in his life other than his personal assistant, and his sociopath brother, who was too busy with an army doctor. And even his devoted personal assistant had more important family things to be dealing with at the time.  


So over the last couple weeks, when he had a few free moments, Mycroft had instructed his driver to drop him off somewhere near to where Gregory could sometimes be seen. He did not want to seem too needy, and show up directly at the Yard, so instead, like an insanely needy ex-boyfriend, he reasoned that it would seem much more organic if Gregory just…happened upon him while Mycroft was out and about, on a stroll on the way to an afternoon meeting. Nevermind the fact that his former partner would have known that he didn’t stroll anywhere. But in the end, the plan had worked, and now he had a dinner date with the only man that had ever seen the inside of his bedroom.

The sleek black Jaguar pulled up outside of the small Italian restaurant that Gregory and he had loved so much in their previous time together, and Mycroft very nearly lost his nerve. After all this time and work, he had what he wanted. An evening with Gregory Lestrade. If he was truthful to himself though, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do with that evening, and had no idea what Gregory wanted from the dinner. All he knew was that the love of his life, whom he wronged severely, had agreed to meet with him, had agreed to wear the suit that he had sent over, and had not cancelled when he found out that he had sent cufflinks that cost more than most things Gregory owned. Mycroft opened the door, and got out of the car, closing it behind him. He had six minutes until Gregory arrived at the restaurant, and he needed some time to settle himself and choose the wine.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Gregory meet for dinner. It doesn't go as planned. It never goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to realize that these characters have a lot of background that I saw fit to ignore in the first chapter. But i'm starting to fill in those gaps a bit. 
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

Greg smoothed out his jacket front as he walked into the familiar Italian restaurant. He was glad that Mycroft had chosen a place within his price range (not that he was under any illusions that the British Government would allow him to pay) and comfort. It put the two of them on even ground. Well, as even as the ground could be while Greg was wearing a suit that had been provided for him by the other man, with a set of cufflinks that’s value rivalled anything that he had ever given to his ex-wife. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that he was automatically walking to their “regular” table in the dining room. He looked around, taking his eyes off the plush red carpet that pillowed against his shoes, which were his own for once. Thankfully, Mycroft was seated in the same table that the two had occupied many a time before after a hard day with a multiple murder, or Mycroft’s long videoconference’s or cross continental trips.

For the second time in only a few short seconds, Greg’s mind ground to a halt, this time because of the man who was sitting before him. He still looked unbelievably worn on, as if every decision in England rested solely on his slim, freckled shoulders that were protected by a perfectly fitted suit. It was obvious that Mycroft had last weight since he and Greg had broken up, but it did not seem an obscene amount. Greg managed to finally kick start his brain and walked over to the table.

Mycroft stood to meet him, and before Greg had a chance to react, he leaned in and pressed gentle kiss to Greg’s stubbly cheek. The smell of his former lover wafted into his nose after being so close, and Greg breathed it in greedily. He had always loved the smell of a clean, well dressed man in the past, but Mycroft had always taken it to the next level. This night was no different, knowing that he was wearing a cologne that his own daughter had bought for him pulled at his heart a bit more. No doubt that was done on purpose. There were no coincidences with Mycroft Holmes. Greg smiled and leaned in briefly to the contact. Mycroft’s fingers rested carefully on Greg’s forearms and even through two layers of fine fabric, the touch scorched. Greg looked at Mycroft once he had pulled back. “It’s good to see you, Myc.”

“Yes, it’s lovely to see you too, Gregory.” Mycroft released the patterned buttons on his jacket as he sat back down, but left his waistcoat buttoned all the way up. Greg’s eyes wandered down to the pocket watch that was in plain sight. He crossed his legs perfectly, as he always did when he was sitting at a table, or in a chair…or on a bench. “I took the liberty of ordering your usual, and I got us a bottle of wine since neither of us will be driving home. I hope it will be to your liking.”

Greg ignored that statement, and moved on quickly to his larger concern. It was almost as if nothing had changed, and that was exactly the problem that was racking Greg’s brain right now. In the six months since they have broken up, he had fought to keep his head above water, and Mycroft had left him to drown, alone, and without somewhere to live. “Why are we doing this? I can’t stand pretending through this whole dinner that I’m not still hurt, just because you missed seeing my face.”

 Mycroft looked as her rarely did; shocked. He blinked several times, and turned his head slightly to one side. “Gregory, while I said that I missed you, and meant it, it was not the only reason that I asked you to meet me. I brought you here to explain…to explain why…”

“Why you left me? Why you took the one good thing in my life that I could come home to?” Greg was getting angrier than he had intended, much earlier than he had intended, but the coolness of the aptly nicknamed Iceman had gotten to him. Greg flexed his fingers in order to focus on anything other than the situation he was in. his eye’s caught the cufflinks that he was wearing and although they caused a twinge of happiness his face stayed stone serious. Gifts were not why he was here, or why he had ever been there, despite the fact that he enjoyed them.

“I came to explain why I threw away the one thing that made dealing with the vile people that I see day in and day out worthwhile.” Mycroft’s voice had reached a calculated coldness that Greg had long ago realized meant he was upset. He could remember only two more times that Mycroft had gone cold on him like that, but both times had been a struggle on his part to keep his calm. There is nothing more aggravating than arguing with someone who had no feelings.

The waiter came along with a bottle of wine and two large wine glasses. He could tell that there was tension in the air, but professionalism and discretion didn’t allow him to flinch. He poured the rich red liquid from the aged bottle and laid one glass in front of each of the tight lipped men. He left the bottle sitting on the fine red table cloth and turned to make his retreat. It would come up later that both Greg and Mycroft were grateful for the distraction, as it gave them a moment to collect themselves.

“Please tell me how you could look me in the eye, and tell me it wasn’t working.” Greg spat the words. This conversation had been stewing for a long time, and it had been one that he had been too hurt to have that night, and too angry to have until now. Although it seemed to Greg, that perhaps he was still a bit too angry.

“During that dinner, I was informed that someone had found our home. And broke in. That person was caught and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. But it shook me. Our home isn’t listed in my name, the address isn’t published.”

“Myc, you realize I’m a copper, right? I deal with burglaries, and much worse, every day. Why would that worry you? We both have dangerous jobs.” Greg’s voice was much softer now, instead of being angry, he was trying to understand where the other man had been coming from. The quick switch in emotions was hard for Greg, but he was beginning to think this was what the night was going to be about.

“This man was different. He may have even been above my pay grade. I got very scared. If I had let something happen to you; if you were taken away from your daughter…or me… I don’t know what I would do.” A normal person would be crying, but Mycroft merely had a slightly creased face, and his hands clasped in front of him. That was as emotional as Greg had ever seen the man.

“You can’t make those decisions on my behalf. You decided for me, that I should be alone, instead of being happy. With you. Where I want to be.” Greg looked at Mycroft right in the eyes, with tears welling up in his eyes. “I loved you, Mycroft Holmes.”

“Loved?” Mycroft took a much larger drink of wine than what would normally be considered acceptable, but looked like he needed it to comprehend what Greg had just said; like maybe the alcohol sliding down his throat would make everything clear.

“Yes, Myc. What you did hurt me. So right now, it’s a past tense. I miss you too, but nothing is the same anymore.” Greg felt a tear release from his eye and quickly brushed it away with the back of his hand. He had no problem showing Mycroft that he was hurting, but the whole restaurant didn’t need to see it.

“I can understand that, Gregory. It’s become clear to me in the last few months that I may have made a mistake. I would merely like to correct that error.”

“I’m not just a problem that you can fix, Mycroft Holmes! I was your lover! We lived together!” Greg could feel the anger in his belly rising up again, and it was starting to get out of hand. “Stop trying to solve me, and just feel. When you can do that, please call me.”

Greg got up and left, not daring to look back, because if he did, if he chanced looking that man in the face, and saw hurt or concern, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go. As he walked out the door, the cool air hit him like a wall of relief. It cooled his cheeks, and he welcomed the long walk to clear his head.

 

X

Mycroft watched Gregory stalk away with the same precision he would look at important documents. He noticed three things immediately. The first had been that he had not looked back at all, a true sign that he had been truly angry. The second was that the suit he sent no longer fit as perfectly has it would have before. It appeared that Gregory had lost an amount as well. The third thing he noticed was not something he saw but more something he felt. Like a piece of his logical and upfront mind and heart had gone with Gregory when he had stormed out.

This dinner had not gone at all as was planned, but that was always the way it went. He never wanted to fall in love with Gregory, or anyone for that matter, but it didn’t change the fact that one evening, after a night spent chasing Sherlock all over hell and creation, Mycroft and Gregory had fallen into bed together. It had started that way, and eventually it developed.

It went from a random fuck every few weeks, falling into each other’s arms when things got too stressful, or difficulty; to having drawers in each other’s dressers and, and finally deciding to move in with each other. Gregory had moved into Mycroft’s flat, simply because Mycroft’s was bigger, and nice. The home had been an interesting mix of cold and calculated and warm and inviting. Mycroft had come to accept that was what made their relationship work. Greg warmed up Mycroft’s heart and soul, and Mycroft had toughened Greg’s resolve and taught him how to be just a little bit more refined. Mycroft would never forget the first time that he managed to get the other man in a suit and tails. Greg had looked truly like a man out of time, with his grey hair contrasting starkly with the black suit jacket and pants, and the white shirt and tie.

Once Gregory had left though, his heart had grown cold again, and his home had done very much the same. The only thing that remained once his lover had left was an old Arsenal sweater that had been in the laundry when the extrication took place. It was red, with white long sleeves, and Mycroft kept it in a drawer all by itself. Unless he had a particularly terrible day, and then occasionally it made its way onto Mycroft’s torso while he was wrapped up in work until the wee hours of the night. Then it would go back into the drawer, and stay there until it was needed again.

Mycroft knew that tonight that sweater would be aiding him in the work that he had put off to go to this dinner, and hopefully to also aid him in trying to work out how he could convince Gregory that he wanted to be with him because he cared, not because he was lonely, or missed, or his Yorkshire puddings. Which, if he was a bit honest, he did really miss those. But what he really missed was waking up with someone’s warm arms wrapped around his waist. He missed having someone to come home to and someone to share the evenings with. Mycroft would need to make him realize somehow. Mycroft sighed and waived over the waiter to get the bill. He also asked for the food to be packed up so he could take it home with him. He was capable of using the microwave, and there was no reason for the food to go to waste just because the night had to.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gregory,” Mycroft answered in an even tone. Only Mycroft Holmes could sound indifferent after he had requested a marriage proposal.
> 
> “You understand this is insane, yeah? That you just want to pick up, go buy a house and get married?” Greg tried to make his voice questioning, but mostly it just sounded excited.
> 
> “People always say life is crazy. We’re getting older. We need to get on with this. And it’s a good time of year to get a new house. Do you have a preference for area?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the comments and kudos, friends! they all mean a lot. 
> 
> this is the last part of this one, in this specific timeframe. there will be more though! I'm basically working my way through their whole timeline. And I already have one half done now.

Greg took another hard right, turning down a path that he was sure he had never noticed before. His muscles had started leaching lactic acid about a half hour ago, but he was not ready to stop. He had had another terrible day at the office and at the end of it, when Sally had suggested that he leave and take the next day off, he had decided that maybe she was right.

He had gone back to his flat for just long enough to change into a blue Under Armour top and black spandex running shorts along with a pair of trainers, and then left again. And for the last 75 minutes he had been running at his hardest pace, letting the beat of his shoes made on the ground carry him through. His mind had been blissfully blank since he started his run and it was a welcome change. Last night’s dinner had been a disaster, and that was not what Greg had wanted. Apparently everything was still a bit too fresh, even after all the time that had passed.

 

Greg had just rounded a familiar bend and started his journey back to his flat when he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He had just decided to ignore it indefinitely when it vibrated a second time. Greg cursed his responsibility silently as he took out his phone and read the messages.

_Gregory, I have been thinking about us. – MH_

_Congrats Mycroft. And what have you deduced? – GL_

_There is no need to be cheeky, I’m trying to apologize. – MH_

_I’m waiting. – GL_

Greg knew he was making everything a bit harder than it needed to be, but he wasn’t trying to make things easy for Mycroft for once.

_Gregory, please. I’ve chosen to do this via text, and not phone, or in person, because it will give us a chance to think about our answers. – MH_

_Right. Makes sense. – GL_

_I have made many mistakes in my life, Gregory. But I fear that the night I ended things with you was the worst. – MH_

_I’m not Sherlock, Myc, I don’t need protecting. If you had just told me what was going on, we could have dealt with it. – GL_

_I know. I’m so used to protecting him. I was not treating you as an equal. I was putting my thoughts about yours before I even asked your thoughts. – MH_

_I can appreciate your situation. But I hope you can appreciate mine, too. I didn’t even get to fight for you. – GL_

Greg had continued walking while they exchanged messages, breathing deeply to soothe the burn in his lungs. His legs protested he longer he walked, but he was nearly home and then he would collapse into the tub and soak the soreness away with a bottle of beer and a good book.

_I do now understand where you were coming from, and I never meant to make you feel like a secondary member of this marriage. – MH_

_Marriage? Where did that come from? We weren’t married. We only lived together for 7 months. – GL_

_Were you not devoted to me, as I was to you? Did we not share everything? Did we not mourn when we parted? Is that not what marriage is? Not a mere piece of paper. – MH_

_I never thought of it like that before. – GL_

The thought hit Greg like a mack truck to the side of the head. Married? To Mycroft Holmes? He had sworn that he would never be married again after everything went pear shaped with the ex-wife, but maybe Mycroft had a point. They had been in a serious relationship. But that thought only served to make Greg more upset that Mycroft had given up on what he called a marriage.

_And I never thought of it as anything else. Which is why I regret my choice so dearly. – MH_

_So, what are you suggesting? Do you want to make a date? Move back in? Get married for real? Maybe tell some people about us? – GL_

_I would like all of those things, yes. Although I think searching for a new home would be best. And I want a proper proposal. – MH_

Greg just stared at the message and then jammed his finger against the call button. He wasn't ready to forgive Mycroft quite yet, but the toothy grin that he was unable to suppress told a different story.

“Gregory,” Mycroft answered in an even tone. Only Mycroft Holmes could sound indifferent after he had requested a marriage proposal.

“You understand this is insane, yeah? That you just want to pick up, go buy a house and get married?” Greg tried to make his voice questioning, but mostly it just sounded excited.

“People always say life is crazy. We’re getting older. We need to get on with this. And it’s a good time of year to get a new house. Do you have a preference for area?”

“Mycroft! I can’t afford a new house! I can hardly afford my flat right now. Maybe we should just start with going on a few dates without one of us leaving with hurt feelings?” Greg’s voice now switched into frustration, a tone that even when the two men were on good terms he had often.

“Well, I have plenty of money. And would love nothing more to spend all of it on you. Are you busy?”

Truthfully, Greg had walked into his flat from his run, and hadn’t moved from the cramped front entrance. He definitely needed a shower, and probably should have sat down to think about what he was doing.

“Want to come see the new flat? I need a shower, but I can probably be done by the time you get here.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t hurry on my account though. I’ve seen worse things than you in a towel.” Mycroft chuckled softly and hung up the phone, not waiting for an answer. Greg wasn't even concerned that he didn’t ask for the address; he was just used to Mycroft knowing everything.

Greg dropped his keys, phone and wallet on the dining room table and started the short walk to his bathroom. As he was going he peeled off his jogging gear and threw it into the laundry basket. He would need to wash them right away, as his whole flat would stink like a locker room if he didn’t. He turned on the shower and stepped under the hot spray, letting it wash away the sweat, stress and insanity.

He must have lost himself a little, because the next thing he knew, someone was tapping softly on his bathroom door. “Gregory.”

“Sorry, Myc, I’ll be out in a minute!” Greg yelled so that Mycroft would hear him, but it ended up not mattering as Mycroft turned the handle on the door slowly, and opened the door. Greg’s eyes went a bit wide, as his shower curtain was see-through.

“I fear that this might be what I missed the most since you left my home…” Mycroft trailed off as he stepped forward, pulled the plastic curtain aside with disdain and crushed his lips into Greg’s. The kiss was full of passion, all lips and tongues and teeth but despite the fact that Greg was naked it didn’t progress beyond that.

Eventually, Greg pulled away, breathless and a bit surprised. He leaned down and turned off the water, and reached for a towel. “Hi, Myc.”

“Hi. I’m sorry, normally I would restrain myself. But I’ve missed you.”  Mycroft smiled in a way that Greg rarely saw, and once the Detective Inspector stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, Mycroft pulled him into a crushing hug.

“I’m getting water on your suit, Mycroft.” Greg tried to pull back, but Mycroft did not budge, with his long fingers gripping the skin on Greg’s back tightly.

“I couldn’t care less…”


End file.
